


Wrap Yourself Around Me

by darknessexiststomakelighttrulycount



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Dark Eve Polastri, F/F, I JUST WANTED THEM TO HUG, Inspired by Killing Eve (TV 2018), Killing Eve (TV 2018) Season/Series 03, Killing Eve - Freeform, Killing Eve post season 3, Soft Eve Polastri, Soft Villanelle | Oksana Astankova, they both deserve hugs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:14:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24604531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darknessexiststomakelighttrulycount/pseuds/darknessexiststomakelighttrulycount
Summary: Eve could feel Oksana’s body heat radiating and seeping through Eve’s parka, inundating Eve with her warmth, mingling with her own. It was comforting, inviting, addicting. Eve breathed in Oksana, relinquishing herself to the heady scent as she fell further into the woman.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 15
Kudos: 164





	1. Finding Comfort in the Chaos

The backdrop of cars whizzing across the bridge, wheels causing the suspended pavement to shutter underneath the velocity and weight of the cars, and people’s feet clicking, thudding, and shuffling past them fell away as Eve and Villanelle gazed at one another for what felt like an eternity. The world around them was muted by the sheer electricity thrumming between the two women whose mutual relief was palpable in spite of the forty feet of distance. Neither Eve or Villanelle knew who took the first step back toward the other, yet abruptly, the two were mere inches away from each other, as if they teleported to the very spots they had just been standing moments before when Villanelle gave Eve the freedom to choose her fate, to choose _her_.

Eve felt as if she were floating despite the charged tension crackling in their close proximity, the weight in her muscles, in her chest, in every fiber of her being that she masked to adhere to any sense of normalcy she could in her forty-eight years finally dissolved. In its wake, an intoxicating mixture of deathly calm and raw power flooded her system, as if her heart were meant to be pumping the lethal cocktail all along—her new drive, her true purpose. She imagined this is what Villanelle felt when she first understood her true nature and reveled in its grotesque honesty. Villanelle, who Eve always knew to be more than just a killing machine. Villanelle, who was constantly undermined by the people around her because she took no interest in the ‘why’ or ‘who’ behind her kills before Eve. Villanelle, who knew exactly when to push the envelope because of the safety net Konstantin and the Twelve had promised her. Villanelle, who so desperately wanted to connect with people so she’d mimic the appropriate, and often inappropriate, reactions and analyze keenly at their responses to her. Villanelle, who was vastly intelligent and nearly inaccessible. But not to Eve. Never to Eve. Villanelle’s honesty and openness only ever reserved for Eve, even when disguised as quips or detracted statements; she always let Eve in with her eyes. And now, those wide, hazel eyes were boring into hers with such accessibility that Eve knew this wasn’t Villanelle, that Villanelle had slipped away from the woman like a language not practiced enough and in its place her native self shone through. Oksana.

Those beautiful eyes always glassy, always holding back, now spilled over. Eve reached out, her fingers diverting the trail of tears to fall between her fingers before cupping Villanelle’s face entirely and wiping the remaining tears with her thumb. Oksana crumpled into Eve, bridging the small gap between them and throwing her arms around Eve’s shoulders. She clung onto Eve, her body enveloping Eve’s, swallowing it whole beneath hers as her sobs made her tremble lightly. Eve stilled, senses flooded so wholly with Oksana, she feared that if she moved she’d disrupt this dream and wake up in her shitty apartment with the crushing weight of normalcy and keeping up a semblance of the façade. But she felt Oksana tuck her head into Eve’s unruly hair, and Eve automatically wrapped her arms around the taller woman, shielding her own face into Oksana’s neck.

Eve could feel Oksana’s body heat radiating and seeping through Eve’s parka, inundating Eve with her warmth, mingling with her own. It was comforting, inviting, addicting. Eve breathed in Oksana, relinquishing herself to the heady scent as she fell further into the woman. She memorized the scent, compartmentalizing it and tucking it away safely to never forget, right next to the La Villanelle fragrance that she could still smell on her own skin every once in a while. The two melted into each other, just as they had on the ballroom floor less than twenty-fours hours ago. But this time they melded into one, finally understanding and accepting the other. The shared the same fate. And neither was willing to give that up. Not anymore.

Eventually, when Eve’s arms grow tired and her neck aching, she pulled away from Oksana without stepping out of their shared space. Oksana’s eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, with the tip of her nose and cheeks flushed pink. Eve chuckled in slight embarrassment of being in their own world so publicly. She thought of all the shitty romance films where the love interests forget about the world around them and all they see is each other. Perhaps Carolyn had been right because Eve certainly felt like she was in a Hollywood movie, here with Oksana. She got her girl.

Oksana gave a slight smile before reaching to caress Eve’s cheek. She fondly dragged her knuckles across Eve’s cheek with glimmering eyes tracking her own movement, the gentle friction both tickling and burning wherever Oksana touched her.

“Thank you,” Oksana whispered, the Russian lilt in her voice sounding rougher. It soothed Eve. Her arms fell away from Eve, and Eve desperately wished they were delicately and securely wrapped around her again. She _needed_ the gentle friction of Oksana’s skin against her own. Eve’s brows furrowed.

“For what?” she responded, her own voice low and gruff.

Oksana’s focus flickered between Eve’s eyes and her lips for a millisecond, restraining herself from leaning in just . . . a . . . little . . . closer.

“For choosing me.”

Eve softened and she felt the corner of lips lift as the weight of her choice registered to her. As much as this had been about accepting her fate, tying herself to Oksana and letting her monster take the reigns—freeing her darkness—it also meant that Oksana finally found someone who understood her intrinsically and still wanted her. Every dark, monstrous, naïve, endearing, intricate, remorseful, and merciful part of her, Eve wanted it and Oksana knew the moment their eyes met across the bridge. Oksana finally found someone who she could connect with and that person accepted her for who she was; that person wasn’t afraid of her monster, that person saw so much more than just a monster, than just the chaos, that person still wanted to protect her and her monster, that person wanted Oksana’s monster to encourage, teach, feed, and entangle itself in Eve’s monster. Eve felt a fresh sting of tears begin to blur her vision.

Oksana continued, “For choosing me when no one else did,” she paused, “and for crying about it.” Oksana gave an innocent smile, like she hadn’t just ruined a tender, honest declaration into a teasing jab.

Eve scoffed, but let her tears fall. “Well, I did just tell you that all I see in my future is your face,” she retorted. Oksana’s face lit up as a giant smile graced her face, crinkling the corner of her eyes.

“It is a beaut-“

“Yeah, yeah, beautiful face—got it.” Eve cut her off, their typical banter slipping back into place. Eve turned, facing the Thames. She needed a break to breathe in some crisp night air and clear her head before it began swimming in all things Oksana, and Villanelle. She needed to recollect herself, ground herself, but even as she tried to clear her head, to think more rationally and reflect on the past year of her life, she found that it was flooded with _her._ Any introspection Eve would lose herself in would always go back to those wide, hazel eyes. Even when she thought about her childhood, her university days, her intimacy with Niko, she would find herself orbiting those questions around Oksana: what her childhood must have been like, what kind of student she was before she met Anna and during her affair with the older professor, and what kind of lover Oksana was. Did she command control? Did she ever watch while others engaged? Did she like to inflict pain or have it be inflicted on her? Did she-, Eve cut off her thoughts. They were spiraling again into the black hole of all things Oksana.

Leaning against the railing, Eve admired the scenery, feeling the rawness of everything slip further from the surface of her sensitized skin and slink back into her heart. Oksana joined her, again resuming their positions the first time they connected on the bridge. Both women felt each other leaning closer to the other, as if pulled by an invisible string. They were two black holes, circling each other, both absorbing each other’s gravity and waiting to see whose would consume the other’s first. Their hands were close enough that if either woman twitched their pinkies, it would brush against the other’s. They both watched the city lights flicker in the distance, completely content in each other’s presence, in each other’s silence, for once. Neither of them anticipating ulterior motives, loaded words, or concealed weaponry.

Again, Eve felt like she was in a Hollywood film. However, Eve couldn’t pause the scene to stay suspended in the moment forever. No, the scene was not going to cut to black and the credits roll while Eve and Villanelle stood on the London Bridge. This was just the beginning of their story, one they finally shared as partners, common allies, and perhaps something more. Eve couldn’t label it, not yet. Not until she finally shared herself entirely with Oksana and vice versa. In this hour, on this bridge, Eve and Oksana were equals.

Eve heaved a sigh. “Now what?” she questioned to herself, to Oksana, to the universe that fated them. Villanelle shrugged.

“We should go back to your place,” she threw out casually, keeping her gaze fixed on the city across the still water. Eve’s head swiveled to meet Oksana’s transfixed face, Eve’s brows pulled upward and mouth slightly agape. “Not for that Eve. Jeez, someone’s eager.” Eve snorted, glaring at Villanelle who broke into a smug smirk. “We should go back to your place and figure out what we’re going to do. You know, strategize,” Oksana finished; smirk falling back into a thin, pursed lips.

Eve nodded, straightening herself. “I’ll contact Carolyn in the morning and see if she’s willing to let us help her. There’s got to be something we can offer her. Maybe exact revenge on Kenny’s behalf or find more moles in MI6. I’m sure that guy she killed isn’t the only one and there’s probably a slew of other international government agents who have been compromised and acting as double agents for the Twelve.”

Oksana stiffened as Eve prattled on about the Twelve and what possible high profile figures could be part of the organization. She turned to Eve, Eve mirroring her so they were face-to-face once more. Eve noticed the anxiety flitting across Oksana’s face and settling in her eyes as she refused to meet Eve’s. “What? What’s wrong?” Eve asked, confusion with an underlying current of worry in her voice.

“Eve, I don’t think going after the Twelve is a good idea.” Oksana’s voice was grave, as if she was delivering the bad news to someone’s loved one that the surgery didn’t go well and the patient died. “Your boss, Carolyn, she’s right. We can’t stop them.”

Something in her confession held rage and regret. Eve let it wrap around her heart and memorized the malice it instilled within her in the thought of Oksana being frightened enough to not want to crush every part of the organization under her designer shoes after everything they did to her. Eve catalogued the feeling, ready to bring it to the surface and let it nourish her monster to protect Oksana. Eve’s monster actualized itself more and more, pieces of it modifying and morphing into something she could grasp, unlike the instance with Raymond where pure adrenaline and blackout fear propelled her to kill to keep Oksana alive. As much as Eve wanted to place all the blame on Villanelle for manipulating her into killing someone, she couldn’t deny the dark shadow of herself making choices that led her to that moment, leaving Hugo on the lobby floor to bleed out, refusing Carolyn’s safety net, choosing Villanelle when Villanelle was more than capable of staying alive no matter how much Eve wanted to believe that she was integral to Villanelle’s wellbeing back then. So many decisions in Eve’s life already proved there was something more uninhibited and violent within her. Yes, Eve could finally wrap herself around this monster, one she crafted, nurtured, and let in.

“They’re not going to get away with everything they’ve done, to Kenny, to you, to us,” Eve reassured, coiled and ready to strike anyone who dares harm the only person she has left.

“But Carolyn does not want me either. I have nothing to offer her.” Again, the defeat and its resignation are clear in Oksana’s voice.

Eve breathes steadily, calming the vibrations throughout her body. “That’s bullshit. And Carolyn knows that,” she reassured, trying to keep her voice from raising an octave or two. “They’ve never faced us together, on the same side, as a team. They won’t know what hit them. Not as long as we’re together . . . working together.” Eve tacked on when she felt the blush creep onto her face due to Oksana’s openly wanton expression.

“Right, ‘working,’” Oksana mocked, biting her lip.

Eve broke her gaze, rolling her eyes. “Now who’s eager?” Eve muttered. The night air had dropped to an intolerable chill and the bridge nearly desolate with only a few cars going past, signaling to Eve that it was time to go. She outstretched her hand towards Oksana. Oksana dropped her eyes down to Eve’s inviting hand, her smirk morphing into something sincere and soft before accepting and clasping her hands in Eve’s. She basked in the warmth of Eve’s smaller hand and rubbed her thumb across the smooth expanse of skin on Eve’s knuckles.

Eve also felt a sense of security in holding Oksana’s hand, their heat mingling again as she tried not to sigh contentedly from Oksana’s gesture. As they continued their walk towards the underground station hand-in-hand, Eve, again, realized how much this young woman had drastically shifted her life, how integral she was—is—in her metamorphosis, into the person everyone was too terrified to acknowledge. Oksana, and Villanelle, was her catalyst, her savior from a life of lies and boredom, equally to Eve being Oksana’s key to her humanity, unlocking the part of her she was trained to rip apart and set fire to with only ashes left to pick through.

“Thank you,” Eve blurted.

“For what?”

“For believing in me, trusting me, and choosing me.” Eve squeezed Oksana’s hand. Oksana let out a gasped ‘oh,’ reciprocating Eve’s squeeze in gratitude.

“You have a great taste in women.” Eve tested the compliment on her tongue, a twinge of awkwardness flowing through her.

“Yes, I do. So do you,” Oksana easily teased back.

The two women met each other’s gaze, a playful smile slipping onto both of their lips before they climbed down the stairs, under the cover of underground station.


	2. Bare Yourself in the Hollow Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m glad you’re alive.”

They rode the tube in silence, letting the connection of skin comfort them as they clung to each other’s hands—it still felt like an illustrious dream that neither knew who was dreaming. Feeling the ridges, indentations by fingers pressed into the spaces between, the nearly invisible thin hairs between knuckles, and fine lines across the back hands, following the roadmap from top to bottom, they mirrored each other’s touch. When Eve slid her thumb across Oksana’s, Oksana would follow suit. When Oksana massaged the back of Eve’s hand with her finger, Eve returned the gesture.

Again, lost in her dream world, Eve didn’t register that they had arrived at their stop until Oksana tugged on her hand, pulling Eve up and out of the tube. She forced herself to pay attention to this world and meet Oksana’s worried eyes.

“You okay?”

Eve nodded slightly. “Yeah.”

She hoped it sounded nonchalant enough to disguise the fact that she had gotten lost in Oksana all over again.

They held hands all the way to Eve’s apartment, becoming extensions of each other. Once they arrived to Eve’s front door, Eve freed her hand to fish for her key in her worn tote.

“Dammit,” she exhaled, closing her eyes and taking a breath. “I think I left the keys inside the flat. Let me call Jamie and see if he’ll let us-“

Oksana, who was patiently standing behind her, maneuvered Eve behind her and began fiddling with the lock, procuring a bobby pin from her neatly wrapped bun.

“Don’t worry Eve, I’ve done this before.” She craned her neck to Eve and gave a cheeky grin before returning to the task at hand.

Eve, dumbstruck, completely blocked out the fact that she abandoned her flat in the first place because of the very person crouching in front of her, who she was now allowing to break into it for a second time. She wanted to laugh, throw her head back, grip her midsection and laugh at it all, until her sides ached, her lungs begged for air, her throat closed up, and she finally suffocated under the weight of her sheer stupidity for believing she could outsmart and escape Oksana, that she _wanted_ to. God, she really deluded herself into thinking that she no longer cared, that she was actually frightened, downright terrified of this assassin, when all this time it was her own inability to forget the Russian, to tear her out of her mind, rip it to shreds with her bare hands, and discard the remains into a landfill to get lost with other people’s closeted skeletons. She would finally, finally shed the skittish, panicked image, so worried that everyone could see how crazed she truly was. And they did. It was herself she feared the most. Her obsession now became enamor, admiration into affection. It scared the shit out of her as her rational mind screamed how illogical and twisted this was—Villanelle had shot her and Eve couldn’t help but feel pride in stirring up Oksana emotionally enough for her to resort to such a finite end, turning their cat-and-mouse game into a tragic love story.

Eve suddenly felt so simple. How could she have ever believed that she was over Oksana, over Villanelle? They were too alike in that way, their violence toward each other an act of love, a visible promise of their coexistence.

They entered the flat, Oksana locking the door and securing them in for the night. _What’s the point of a faulty lock when I have you_ , Eve thought, biting her bottom lip to restrain a smile from breaking through.

“I couldn’t really afford a security system to keep out scorned lovers who happen to be skilled assassins. Plus, what’s the point? You would’ve found a way in somehow.” 

Oksana nodded. “You’re right. I’m very skilled and resourceful. We can put that on my résumé for your boss, Carolyn.”

Eve half-heartedly agreed, removing her shoes by the door and padding over to the miniscule kitchenette. She knew Carolyn was full of shit. As an intelligence officer and former field agent herself, Carolyn knew the skillset it required to infiltrate high-profile organizations and diplomats, to commit murder. She knew Oksana’s capabilities to disarm someone, literally and figuratively, create a sense of comfort and ease around her, lowering their expectations and suspicions of her, was an asset because Carolyn implemented the same techniques during the height of her career in the Cold War. However, Carolyn could not take on personas quite as expertly as Oksana. Another valuable ability Oksana possessed. It’s what struck Eve about Villanelle in the first place. Eve faintly hoped that she would be able to learn from Oksana, cringing at her Tallulah Shark spectacle.

Eve hung her coat and purse on the back of the chair in her pitiful dining area that consisted of one rectangular porch table with barely enough surface area to fit two entrée plates and two wooden chairs on opposite sides of the table. She once questioned why she bothered with two chairs when she sure as shit wasn’t going to have any guests over. But she chalked it up to symmetry, pretending to care about home décor amidst the open wine bottles, dirty laundry, and emptied take out cartons. Now, she was grateful for the second chair and felt entirely too self-conscious of her insignificant flat with all its visual representations of her completely unstable and jumbled life.

She resisted the urge to frantically shove clothes into drawers, clean or dirty, trash into her already half-full bin, and throw the dirty dishes in the sink and hide them under suds. She knew Oksana saw this chaos before—it’s not like Eve ever bothered to clean when she actually inhabited the space. Oksana knew she was not in the habit of cleaning up after herself, that there was nothing conventional about Eve. So, Eve ignored the empty bottles, ignored the clothes strewn across her floor, and pivoted to face Oksana.

Oksana hadn’t moved an inch since she entered Eve’s flat, her bright yellow coat illuminating the cramped, shadowed space. She was rooted at the entryway, her fingers twitching and thrumming against her thighs and her eyes roaming the space as if she was taking it all in for the first time. Eve observed the way Oksana wouldn’t meet her face, wouldn’t even look in the general vicinity of Eve. She suppressed the urge to machinegun out a million questions at Oksana: Why are _you_ nervous? Am _I_ making you nervous? Since when did you get nervous? Is this _too much, too fast_? Should I crack a joke? What kind of asinine joke would you make in this situation?

Instead, she settled with, “Can I-uh-take your coat?”

Oksana’s head snapped up to Eve’s, confusion then amusement flickering across her face as mischief glimmered in her eyes and a sly smirk appeared.

"It's more of a dress than a coat, but if you want to see me naked, then . . ." Oksana teased, resulting in Eve's jaw going slack.

She sauntered over to Eve in three strides, nearly toe-to-toe with the shorter woman. Her half lidded gaze and lip bite reminded Eve that their proximity affected Oksana just as much as it affected her—the implication of Eve and Oksana alone in Eve’s flat with a bed less than twenty-feet away from them was top of mind for both women.

Eve’s mind swam again with Oksana’s intoxicating perfume. She could hear a tiny sigh escape her lips as she matched Oksana’s wonderment in the possibility of where this was going. But there was still a flurry of unresolved issues and questions that Eve needed to sort out, not for closure, just to hear Oksana’s passionate sentiments behind the bullet wound that ached dully in Eve’s shoulder. Eve craved Oksana’s unbridled emotions as Eve’s waned every day, only ever feeling the want: want to satiate her rage, her curiosity, her obsession, for Oksana. Eve needed to dissect and prod Oksana’s words so she could reassemble them into something she could match in her awakening.

_Jesus, when did I become so dramatic?_

Eve broke first, side-stepping Oksana, in a vain attempt to catch her breath, but Oksana’s perfume permeated the entire flat, just like the first time she broke in and left the talking stuffed bear. She shuffled to her pantry, thankful that her back was to Oksana because she could feel Oksana smiling, overjoyed in her victory. Oksana dared her to be bold, to take initiative and fall prey to her flirtation or submit to her, let her take the reigns when it came to expressing such wanton pleasures. She may have yielded, but Eve relished in the inaction, not kissing Oksana nor letting Oksana kiss her. At least she could hold onto that.

“Are you hungry? I can make some ramen. It’s not much but-”

“I would love some.”

Oksana pulled out the chair that held Eve’s belongings, wood scraping against worn wood. She slumped into it, idly surveying Eve’s movements as she scurried around the small space, bringing a pot of water to a boil and throwing in dried noodle clumps.

Eve prepared two bowls, handing Villanelle a fork she had just haphazardly rinsed with water while she dug out a pair of disposable chopsticks she had absentmindedly thrown in her drawer so many weeks ago, a lifetime ago.

Oksana scarfed down a forkful of noodles, slurping noisily as the broth splashed onto the tabletop, avoiding her coat completely somehow. She didn’t even flinch at the scalding heat.

“This is delicious Eve.”

Her earnest compliment tumbled out of a full mouth, making Eve chuckle at the sight and her genuine pleasure in the food. It was unfathomably comical that a 1£ package of instant noodles would earn such high praise.

“Thanks. It’s just instant noodles. Probably nothing compared to the meals you’re used to.”

“You’d be surprised at how shit some expensive food is. I nearly killed a chef for it once,” she added, detached at first but then stilled at her words.

The statement lingered in the air before Eve twirled the noodles around her chopsticks and took another bite, swallowing the tension, statement, and steaming starchy substance.

“How much was it?”

Genuine curiosity laced in her question. Eve wanted to know everything about Oksana, including what price point of a meal would agitate her enough to nearly murder.

They shared a look between each other across the small table, both leaning forward and breaking into a smile before resuming their noodle consumption.

Oksana groaned all of three times during the seven-minute dinner, being very vocal about her contentedness in the ramen she inhaled. Eve vaguely worried that Oksana might choke. If that was how the fearsome Villanelle, ‘Devil with No Face,’ were to go, Eve might as well drop dead right there beside her.

Oksana wordlessly took both their bowls and washed them as if she were in her own home. It felt strangely natural, this dynamic, this domesticity. Eve never felt this comfort with Niko. She tolerated it for his sake and out of her guilt for not being able to be the wife he deserved, keeping up the pretense of familiarity within mundane tasks, but she often made herself scarce when Niko cooked and busied herself with work because she couldn’t bring herself to learn and memorize the names of Niko’s school colleagues or pay much mind to the drama of school funding for extracurricular programs. Not when people like Oksana, Villanelle, beckoned her with their multitude of intrigue. She remembered when she had divulged all of this to Oksana in her Parisian flat, enraptured in the very essence of her. There was always intrigue, but now it was so much more. Eve felt a twinge of remorse for the storm she threw Niko into, but she couldn’t hold onto it, too engrossed in the comfort of watching Oksana finish the dishes and leave them on the counter to dry.

Oksana slumped back into her chair, her legs sliding out to loosely cage Eve’s chair.

“Thank you for dinner.”

“Sure . . .” Eve leaned forward over the table, a familiar fierce determination in her eyes, “So, do you think Paul really is part of the Twelve? Or that he really knew your boss? Do you know why Konstantin-”

“Eve,” Oksana cut her off, closing her eyes and tilting her head back against the chair, “aren’t you tired?”

Eve’s relentless curiosity had diluted the sheer exhaustion of the day, and all it took was Oksana’s blunt question to shatter her reverie of unraveling the mystery before them. Her body wanted rest, her brain wanting to pause.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Eve’s body slumped in the chair, nearly identical to Oksana’s position.

They both allowed themselves to just breathe for a few moments, bask in the solace of the emptiness surrounding them.

Oksana finally straightened. “Do you have something I can sleep in?”

Eve, flabbergasted, went blank for a second time since they had arrived to her flat. This shouldn’t have been such a surprise to Eve; of course Oksana was going to stay the night. It’s not like Oksana could waltz back into the hotel the Twelve were paying for and most likely tapped, not without getting killed. Eve brought Oksana here because it would be the safest place for the both of them while they plotted out their next move. She knew they’d have to share a kitchen, a bathroom, and eventually a bed, but she simply forgot, too entranced by the immediate present to think about anything further.

Oksana sensed Eve short-circuit, so she kept her features stern when she suggested, “I can sleep in the nude. It’s healthy to let your body breathe, you know?”

Eve sputtered, jumping out of her seat and standing ramrod straight.

“Uh, n-no. I have pajamas. Hope an old shirt and some shorts work.”

Oksana meticulously lifted the corner of her lips, stretching them, cheek muscles pushing up the skin, crinkling the corners of her eyes.

“Perfect.”

Eve rifled through her drawers, picking out an oversized shirt and some cotton shorts. Oksana scrunched her nose up when Eve handed her the nightwear, inspecting the faded logo in the center of the shirt with an amused look.

“Don’t you dare insult my pajamas. You’re not allowed to be picky now,” Eve defended, eliciting a saccharine smile, too full of teeth, as if Oksana were baring them.

She padded back toward the dressers, pulling out a mismatched pair of shirt and shorts for herself.

Oksana dropped the smile when Eve didn’t react, instead, bringing the clothes up to her nose and inhaling the scent of the fabric. Eve pushed down the spark of excitement that coursed through her upon watching Oksana delight herself in Eve’s scent.

However, Eve couldn’t hold back a shiver when Oksana stood from her chair and made her way to the foot of the bed, stripping unabashedly into her underwear, baring parts of her that were more lethal than her incisors. Another test, another duel. Oksana kept her focus on Eve the entire time, waiting for Eve’s shocked expression, the little eyebrow raise with a slack jaw, waiting for Eve to reject her own attraction to Oksana by immediately censoring the image of her bare body, on display for Eve to take in with reverence. But as always, Eve surprised her.

Eve’s rich, molten stare wrapped around Oksana’s limbs as she undressed, stalking moving limbs and the expanse of skin that now solidified Oksana’s humanness. She could see the way skin stretched over taught muscle, where it sloped delicately over the softer parts of Oksana, the jaggedness of previous wounds now fading into Oksana, the slight discoloration on her mid-thigh and shoulder. Eve counted the freckles littering her body, no telling which ones were revealed at birth and which ones acquired from too many days in the sun, careless and relentless. She grazed the puckered wound on her left upper arm, alarmed at the shoddy workmanship that left the skin slightly swollen and fiery red as the stitches haphazardly squeezed the separated skin tightly together, molten lava hidden beneath the jagged black mountain top. Eve wanted to rip the ugly thread. It didn’t belong on such a glorious creature, too cheap and sloppy for Oksana. Part of Eve wished she had bared witness to the impalement, to know that she was not the only one to puncture the safety of distance and dare poke a lion with a stick, or in her case, a pearl-handled knife. But there was much more to explore and linger on, to lose herself in the veneration of vulnerability.

Passed the blasphemous sealed wound, down her barely visible clavicles, sheathed underneath an armor of skin, Eve settled herself on a bright, silvery scar, encased in a faint pink aura, no longer than an inch. Eve knew exactly where she left her mark but wanted to save its reality for last. The fresh wound on her arm paled in comparison to Eve’s elegant mark. No, that pitiful, foreign cut was no match to Eve’s pretty, pink scar. The very wound that Eve boldly inflicted when Villanelle was only at arms-length from a fully loaded gun. She remembers the initial shock and pride in how yielding Villanelle’s skin had been to the razor sharp blade, incredulous that Villanelle’s skin was not made of steel, rejecting the knife’s point. Eve was lethal and sensual in the milliseconds of penetration.

Eve felt no remorse or disgust as she traced the length of the scar, going back and forth, enchanted by its simplicity when it had once been slick with crimson rivulets that spilled endlessly. It had coated so much of Eve’s own skin that she remembered not being able to discern her fingertips from Villanelle’s wound that had swallowed Eve’s hand in her blood. And now, now it was a memory, actualized in this strangely bewitching silver sliver, delicately painted into her skin by Eve. She wanted nothing more than to feel the textural difference of healed skin against unmarred territory. She wanted to press against the scare and see if it still ached like Eve’s did, if Oksana could feel the twinge of pain from her stomach to her back.

This was Eve’s. Eve’s darkness, a dip into her chaotic and destructive potential, forever attached to its catalyst. It was hers to revel in. Hers to relive. Her to know of its existence even when concealed by a shirt, a dress, a vest, a robe. It was her secret, only for Oksana to enjoy.

Oksana shielded the physical embodiment of Eve’s undoing by letting go of the hem of the shirt as it fell to meet the waistline of her borrowed shorts—Eve could idly worship her mark forever.

“I showed you mine, you show me yours.” Oksana’s baited breath filled the air that Eve had forgotten to take in.

Eve’s finger worked the turtleneck off, her muscles moving without thought as the material stuck to her unkempt mane. She chucked the top onto a heap of clothing by her dresser. Eve’s focus shifted from the scar to Oksana’s eyes, watching her start from Eve’s torso, a devouring glint evident, as she took in all the details she had missed in their first encounter and replacing her fantasy version for the real thing. Her breath hitched when she dragged her eyes upward, absorbing her own handiwork just below Eve’s collarbone.

“Turn around,” Oksana commanded.

Again, Eve’s body complied without any registration of words except in their most basic form. Turning her back to Oksana was not some show of trust. The very essence of trust could not encapsulate what Eve and Oksana had.

She heard Oksana’s footsteps draw closer to her, felt her shallow, warm exhales on her skin, swaying the tendrils of her curls as both their breathing synched together.

“Can I-can I touch it?” Oksana’s voice was so small, quiet, and hesitant that it startled Eve.

There was so much uncertainty in her tone, so much wariness, frightened that Eve would abruptly come to her senses about the ethicality of all this, of how twisted Oksana is and the immorality that made up her personality would finally sink into Eve and drive her away, this time for good.

Eve didn’t trust her voice not to come out breathy, but she wanted to dispel Oksana’s hesitation, so she simply nodded right as the question tumbled out of Oksana’s mouth.

Eve had expected Oksana’s touch to be firm, roughly pressing her finger against the scar by her shoulder blade and perhaps even digging her nail into the length of it, in hopes to reopen the wound to this time watch the blood trickle down Eve’s back. She thought Oksana would dig inside for any traces of metal leftover that she could divert into its originally intended spot of Eve’s heart. However, fingertips, feather-light and fleeting, traced the vertical length of the scar, the pads of her fingertips cool and soft and light against her skin. They barely connected to Eve’s scar, almost lovingly caressing it as if Eve was a flitting bird that would fly away from one wrong move. Eve shivered.

“I’m glad you’re alive.” Oksana said, drawing her hand away and retreating a couple steps away, warranting a slight frown from Eve.

It wasn’t an apology. It never would be. But Eve felt the polarizing inferno within her melt away at the admission and regret for Oksana’s crime of passion. Eve had held onto the rage, the hurt, the self-pity like a lifeline to fuel her to keep living in spite of Oksana for the past six months. She thought of that fateful day in Rome every day to remind herself of how volatile and impulsive Villanelle could be and the danger it posed to whoever was on the other side of it. But this wasn’t the same Villanelle. Eve could see how much she had changed just as she could feel how much she herself was changing. This wasn’t the same Villanelle standing behind her, cautiously touching her, thinking about the ramifications of just taking what she wanted. No, Eve reminded herself, this is Oksana. The manic wrath within Eve dissolved.

She pivoted, hoping to catch Oksana’ expression in the midst of Oksana’s regret, but Oksana’s eyes were back to raking over Eve’s body with hunger, pupils blown and nostrils slightly flared. Eve saw the restraint in Oksana’s tensed muscles and stiff form.

Another small victory for Eve. She knew she was the reason for this reaction and she suppressed the urge to gloat, knowing full well Oksana could easily overwhelm and overtake her. Perhaps she wanted that.

Eve ignored that desire for now, instead, finishing up changing into her pajamas and deliberately paying no mind to Oksana’s unrelenting gaze.

“Let me check if I have an extra toothbrush.”

Eve shuffled over to her cramped bathroom, rifling through drawers and cabinets until she found a complimentary travel-sized toothbrush from one of the airlines she used during her numerous trips across Europe.

They got ready for bed in silence, bumping hips and elbows, refusing to acknowledge each other’s reflections in the mirror. Eve leant Oksana her face wash and lotion, bemused by Oksana’s gentle application of both.

When the finally stood on adjacent ends of the bed, neither of them moved a muscle. Another battle, another childish provocation for dominance and power. Unfortunately for Eve, the running and constant frazzled emotional state she endured wore on her; the onerous hours made her bones Jell-O, her head too full as if she had a subdural hematoma, and the soles of her feet ache.

Eve threw back the duvet, grumbling, “I don’t have any extra bedding, so . . .”

She shrugged her shoulders in an attempt to keep her tone indifferent as she made herself comfortable in her bed. Villanelle raised one eyebrow.

“Stop that,” Eve demanded, “and get in before I change my mind and make you sleep under a pile of clothes.”

With that, Oksana plopped onto the bed, jostling Eve. She shimmied her way under the covers, laying beside Eve on her back, close enough to feel her heat mingle with Eve’s but paying mind not to connect with her. They always allowed themselves distance, almost like an out, but they were always too close to not get drunk by each other’s presence, clouding any rational thought and forfeiting all notions of running. They lay side-by-side, arms folded over midsections, eyes fixed on Eve’s plaster-cracked ceiling.

They didn’t have the luxury of transportation and public spaces to touch each other without it prompting something more intimate. A leap neither were able to take as they laid awkwardly beside each other since the boundaries of their relationship was still murky like kicked up sand in the ocean that had yet to settle. Not even darkness itself could envelop them and afford them the privacy they both so desperately craved right now, to just feel, to hear their breaths fill the room, share each other’s presence without the exposure of the outside world creeping up into their warm, little, safe cocoon. Light slipped through Eve’s window, illuminating the chaos around them, inside them.

_God, why did I have to choose the shittiest flat with the most light to remind me of how shitty it is?_

“What happened?” Eve blurted out a second time that day.

When no response came for a good two minutes, Eve shifted onto her side, propping her head up on her folded arm under the pillow. She worried her lip for a second, harkening back to when she first asked the question and the tears that welled up in Oksana’s eyes as she dodged the question and diverted the topic. Perhaps she had been _too vague_ because so much had happened to her: Oksana and Villanelle. But Oksana let out a shaky breath through quivering lips, her eyes beginning to drown.

“Did you know my mother was still alive?”

Eve didn’t respond.

“Actually, everyone except my dad lived.” Oksana’s voice was just above a whisper, but the Russian lilt of her words rang so loudly in Eve’s ears. “They told me they died, my mother and brother. You told me that once too.” Eve winced. “Konstantin also told me this until six months ago. I don’t think he knew until the Twelve wanted him to know. Or he is an arsehole. Probably both. But he helped me find them . . . I went back to the Russian village where I was born to see them.” A tear slid down the side of Oksana’s temple, disappearing into her hairline. “I went to a fair, won a fan with my great dung throwing, won money from a woman who was very bad at conning people—really, she was terrible. I also won lots of toys . . . Do you still have the one I gave you?”

Eve’s eyebrows furrowed before they rose in surprise. She leaned over the side of the bed, blindly reaching under a pile of clothes until she felt her fingers wrap around a familiar mangled, half-empty polyester fluff and the cool, cheap plastic heart-shaped speaker. She held it firmly in her grip, atop her chest, as Oksana’s eyes met the sight of Eve on her back clutching her gift.

“Eve,” she pouted, “I worked very hard picking that out for you and customizing my message to you.” Her voice now louder, more boisterous and filled with arrogance.

Eve didn’t dare rattle the heart-shaped speaker, anxious that the distorted recording would reveal just how excessively she replayed it, just to hear _her_ voice one more time.

“Did you like my message? How many times did you listen to it? All night? Every night? Did you think of me?” A pause. “Did you masturbate to my voice?”

_No! Too many, but just that night! I always think of you. I don’t need some stupid, talking bear to think of you. Maybe . . . yes._

Eve kept her mouth shut, pursing her lips into a thin line. Instead, she focused on what Oksana revealed to her, the real gift she was sharing with Eve—her honesty, her rawness, her pain.

“What’s your family like?”

Oksana swallowed thickly, fixing her gaze back to the ceiling. Eve returned to her side position so she could watch the reflected light in her eyes slightly distort from the tears it bounced against. Eve could sense the glass about to shatter into shards, slipping down Oksana’s face.

Again, her voice dropped, only finding comfort and courage in the quiet. Eve felt like Oksana was sharing her greatest secret with her. She was honored.

“My brother, Pyotr, he is the same: too kind, easy to push around, and very weird. My youngest half-brother is Bor’ka. He is also weird, but that’s okay because he is young. He can still grow out of it. Maybe. He _really_ likes Elton John. It’s an unhealthy obsession.”

Eve nearly snorted at the statement. Of all people to be talking about unhealthy obsessions, Oksana, and Eve, had no right to judge.

“He has posters and clothes and records, so much. But he is okay. Then there’s Fyodor and his hooker girlfriend, Yu-something. We are not related, thank god. Did you know there are still people who believe the Earth is flat, Eve? Or that American astronauts did not land on the moon? That they faked it.” Oksana let out a bark of laughter, startling Eve. “My mother remarried and it is her new husband’s son. Poor man, had an idiot for a son and an ugly girlfriend.”

Eve chuckled. The notion of an evil global organization trying to slowly redirect control in their favor for some new world order did not phase Oksana, but flat Earthers and race to space conspiracies was completely ludicrous to her. Eve shook her head and quelled her laughter, marveling at Oksana’s frustration toward her stepsibling.

“I guess that husband is an idiot too though, for marrying my mother and believing her act.” Oksana’s voice broke and a fierce concentration overtook her features, her eyebrows furrowing just slightly and her lips pressing together tightly.

Eve stayed deathly still, trying not to breathe too loudly, afraid that any loud noise would break Oksana out of her vulnerability and bury it six-feet underground for Eve to have to excavate all over again.

“My mother wasn’t good and she pretended to be, but I saw the darkness in her. It was hurting Bor’ka. She fooled everyone, even Pyotr, into thinking she was good and whole, a happy mother, that there was light inside her. But I knew. I knew she hadn’t changed.” Oksana paused, fisting her shaking hands and exhaling noiselessly as she struggled to blink away the tears.

Eve found her own hands tightening around the plush toy, her knuckles protruding and white against her tan complexion.

“She told me I never cried as a baby,” Oksana continued, “but I did cry. She just didn’t listen. I did cry, Eve . . . She told me I brought a darkness into her home, so she left me at an orphanage. But the darkness was still in that house. My darkness was hers. She gave it to me. She thought I made her crazy, so she abandoned me in an orphanage . . . Her darkness was poison; it spread to me and it was hurting Bor’ka. She let me stay for two days and then she told me to leave, that I didn’t belong in her fake world, that I wasn’t family. She never wanted me.” Again, Oksana’s voice broke, splintering off into a stifled sniffle and trying to mask it by clearing her throat lightly.

It was too late though. The pillow was stained with her tears and the air was chock-full of her restrained cries and shattered words.

Eve’s heart ached painfully for the abused and abandoned child who learned sociopathic behavior by proxy.

“I had to kill her, Eve. I couldn’t let her poison anymore people with her darkness.” The words strung together without pause, finally let out of their cage for the world to ostracize and penalize her for.

The tears flowed freely now that her admission of matricide echoed in the too-lit flat.

“I know,” Eve whispered.

She dropped the bear and heart onto the floor and gathered Oksana into her arms. Oksana sobbed into Eve’s neck, her body trembling and her hands clasping onto Eve’s shirt in a vice-like grip as shudder after shudder rocked through her body.

Eve understood Oksana, why there was no other way to stop her mother but to kill her. Eve understood Oksana’s act of kindness to keep her mother from destroying any more lives. Eve understood that to Oksana that is what her mother deserved, if not it being a bit merciful when Oksana could have easily dragged out the torture and torment. Eve understood that Oksana needed to liberate herself of her past, of the family that never wanted her, that were too terrified of her, that never showed her proper love. Oksana could be carefree and happy now that she eradicated the poison within her bloodstream. Her family could be whoever she wanted them to be, whoever would have her and all her darkness. Eve understood because she finally understood herself.

Eve was also liberated now. She had severed all the tethers that held her back, tied her down, and confined her to a role she could not conform to. Eve could choose her own path, embrace her own darkness, and choose someone who would love her and her darkness. Eve understood Oksana.

She let the taller woman curl into her, at one point throwing her own arm over Eve’s waist to bring them flush against each other, tangling their limbs as Oksana kept her tear-streaked face buried in the crook of Eve’s neck. Eve placed a kiss on Oksana’s temple when Oksana’s sobbing slowed and quieted, her body calming until only her chest rose and fell in unison with Eve’s.

“I didn’t kill Pyotr and Bor’ka,” Oksana murmured into Eve’s neck sleepily.

Eve hummed in reply, stroking Oksana’s hair until the two fell asleep, melded into one.

Eve couldn’t remember when in the night this happened, but she found her backside curled into Oksana’s front with Oksana’s arm securely wrapped around her waist.

A knock on Eve’s door jolted both of them awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I truly appreciate each and every one of you who enjoyed my fic, which is why I wanted to treat you guys and continue it! Sorry this took so long! I had a difficult time trying to figure out where to start it after my first chapter, whether to do a time jump or not, how much to include, how to end it, etc. This one was a doozy, so forgive me if it was a little long. I hope you all enjoy the slow burn and the gay yearning!


	3. A Proposal and a Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ah, yes. It appears that none of us enjoy cold turkey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry everyone for the long delay! I have been kind of in a slump lately, which had caused a writer's block for me, and then things got really busy with my family and friends, so I didn't have time to focus on this. Any who, I will be more strict with updating and am holding myself accountable to updating every other week. So, look forward to new chapters every two weeks! And thank you again for following along with me and all your wonderful comments!

Oksana bolted out of the bed with grace of a leopard, light on her feet and immediately grabbing a book on Eve’s shelf as either a weapon or a shield. Eve, frazzled and groggy, scampered to the edge of her bed, readying herself to jump to Oksana’s side. However, Oksana gave her a curt shake of her head and held up her hand, commanding her to stay put like a dog.

Eve sunk herself further into the bed, tucking herself partially behind her bookshelf, acting as a barrier between the doorway and bedroom. Eyes wide and body tensed, Eve prepared herself for an explosion of mess as Oksana drew nearer to the doorway with her arm raised above her head, book clenched tightly in her grip. Oksana seemed ready to bludgeon whoever stood behind that doorway to death and dare disrupt their bliss.

Yanking the door open, Oksana was met with the calm, statuesque figure of Carolyn Martens, whose hands were tucked in the pockets of her pale blue and grey striped wool coat. She wore a familiar grin that always looked moments away from contorting into a grimace. Her hair perfectly parted and combed, she looked immaculate.

“Hello Villanelle,” she greeted, not sparing the book-turned-weapon a glance when Oksana lowered her arm. Her grip on the book still tight.

“Hello Eve. May I come in?”

Eve scrambled off the bed, pushing her hair up and out of her face as she intercepted Oksana, shoving her backward slightly with her body to allow enough space for Carolyn to step through the threshold. Eve felt the heated glare burning holes into the back of her head.

Carolyn made no motion to make herself comfortable, simply planting herself beside a chair, signaling to Eve that this was a short visit—a warning or an olive branch.

Oksana stepped around Eve to place herself in front of her, blocking some of Eve’s body with her own.

“Well, you two are certainly moving quickly.”

Eve sighed, her shoulder sagging at the quip. “What do you want Carolyn?”

“I never did properly thank you Eve for helping me out Paul as the mole. Of course, you didn’t know that, but by tracking Konstantin, I was able to kill two birds with one stone: find out who killed my son and who was putting up all the red tape around me.”

Villanelle hummed, “You only killed one bird, but you’re welcome anyway. Now leave.”

Eve gave Oksana a look.

“Please.” Oksana tacked on, plastering a saccharine smile on her face that was no less terrifying than her focused gaze when she tensed to kill.

“Oksana,” Eve reprimanded, and then turned back to Carolyn after Oksana gave her a shrug and dropped the intimidation tactic.

“You’re here for a reason. You don’t drop by unannounced without giving an ultimatum. So, what is it this time?” Eve asked, her tone flat.

Carolyn took in the both of them, standing still and relaxed.

“It’s been a tiring night for all of us, I’m sure. And now it seems we’re all at a crossroads as to where to go from here. So, I would like to offer both of you work, help narrow down your options a bit.”

“You said I had nothing to offer if I didn’t want to kill anymore,” Oksana retorted, the sharpness of her tongue ready to strike just like her coiled fingers.

“Yes, but the circumstances have changed. With Paul out of the picture and my delivery of his betrayal to MI6 on a silver platter, I am now facing more leniency within the agency.”

Eve’s eyes were focused, lips pursed as she absorbed Carolyn’s words. She had been down this road too many times for her not to learn how conniving Carolyn could be. She was worn out from Carolyn making her chase bait tied on a string that Carolyn twirled it in circles. Eve was severing the string: no more bait, no more ulterior motives, no more undermining.

“We’re not going to work for MI6,” Eve stated.

Oksana whipped her head to Eve’s, mouth falling open, ready to argue Eve’s decision, but Carolyn beat her to it.

“No, of course not. You’ll be working for me and me only. Consider it akin to a black ops division.”

“That you’ll be orchestrating under MI6’s nose without any trail for them to hold you accountable with, so that when things go bad, you can just walk away without a scratch and keep your job. No, thanks,” Eve bit back.

“How is what you are offering any better?” Oksana joined Eve’s scrutiny.

Carolyn held firm to her blasé attitude, no indication of frustration or desperation across the woman’s features for Eve and Villanelle to pick up on.

“What other choice do you have? You and Villanelle won’t be able to go gallivanting across the globe with the 12’s money, not without them tracking it. Konstantin has already decided that fate for his daughter and himself. I’m offering to take the target off both your backs or at least conceal it better than Konstantin can.”

Eve felt Oksana tense at the mention of her former handler. She stepped up to her, their arms brushing against each other’s. Oksana leaned in, steadying herself against Eve.

“How do we know you won’t put your own target on our backs for target practice?”

“Eve, I have no reason for such a thing. You are one of the best agents I’ve worked with, if only you kept it all professional, but I suppose both of you are at fault for overstepping professional boundaries.”

Eve scoffed, remembering all of Carolyn’s Russian “confidants” that she curated “professional” relationships with during the Cold War.

“So, what exactly can you give us? I want to make sure we’re not being stiffed,” Villanelle interjected.

The small grin Carolyn wore widened into a smile filled with secrets, buried beneath her tongue, trained to lie dormant until she forced it to the forefront to finally escape her sealed lips. “Protection is guaranteed.”

Eve could have laughed. “Every person under MI6’s protection has ended up dead or damn near it.”

“That’s why you’ll be under my protection.”

“And how will you protect us?” Oksana pressed haughtily, unimpressed.

“I’ve managed to stay alive this long. So, along with protection by me personally, you and Villanelle will be given housing and work accommodations. Don't think it's wise for you two to stay here, nor is it preferable. I will be paying you under-the-table. Best no to have any records of this. And you won’t have to worry about taxes taking a good bite out of your salary.”

 _Best for you to get your hands dirty without anyone seeing the grime and blood,_ Eve thought bitterly.

“What happened to going cold turkey?” Eve threw out, accusatory.

Carolyn tilted her chin upward, angling her head as if she were genuinely pondering the question and had not thought through every scenario Eve could barrage her with. “Ah, yes. It appears that none of us enjoy cold turkey.”

“I like cold turk-”

Eve elbowed Oksana, effectively shutting her up.

“I was being brash when I made the suggestion. Again, a long night of releasing all my anger really wore on my mental state. I may have been a bit delirious; however, a good night’s rest put many things in perspective. As I said, MI6 has offered me a handsome deal by turning their eyes away from my department.”

Eve studied Carolyn, hoping to catch her and see all the skeletons she’s tucked away behind her own bones and find the hallowed out space for her and Oksana. But Carolyn’s masterful control only ever unleashed itself during extremes, like when the weight of endangering her son’s life by involving him in her work finally caught up with her after his untimely death at the hands of Konstantin, the 12, and Paul. Or perhaps her guilt-fueled killing of Paul and mercy toward Konstantin was calculated as well.

“If we agree, I want full transparency. No more secret meetings, no hidden agendas, you show us all your cards before we decide to play,” Eve countered, dangling her conditions in front of Carolyn and hoping Oksana would add on to the list.

“I would ask the same of you two,” Carolyn responded just as quickly, eyebrows pulling upward and hands clasping together in front of her. “All in due time, Eve. So, are we all in agreement?”

“Fine.” Oksana piped up first.

Eve reluctantly agreed, feeling like she was being dragged backwards again.

“Splendid. In regards to living accommodations, everything will be set up by tomorrow evening, so you two have time to pack some of your essentials.” Carolyn started for the door, forcing Eve and Oksana to squeeze out of the way. Carolyn paused before turning to the two of them. “It’s good to get the gang back together.” She gave them a once over before finally exiting, closing the door behind her.

Oksana went to lock the door while Eve sunk into a chair, her shoulders finally relaxing and her head hanging in her palms.

“God, am I an idiot?” Eve muttered, squeezing her eyes shut.

Oksana swept over to loom over Eve. “Well . . .”

“Shut up.”

Oksana sat in the other chair, leaning on her elbows as she took in Eve’s fatigued state: her mane wild, curls sticking out in all directions, almost pointedly drawing more attention to her tanned face, her slender shoulders rising and falling with her steady breath, and her eyelids flickering with the rampant thoughts circulating in and out. She could ogle Eve for eternity.

Eve straightened, eyes snapping open and zeroing in on Oksana, a focused expression pinching her brows together and electrifying her deep brown eyes.

“Alright, we need countermeasures in case this all goes up in flames.” It took Eve a second to process her ill-timed metaphor before her eyes went wide and an apology slinked its way up her throat.

“What do you suggest?” Oksana replied, unbothered by Eve’s words, halting Eve’s apology before it could surface. “An emergency lockbox with all our saved up money for us to runaway with? Our own safe house, on a remote island in the Caribbean?”

The suggestions didn’t sound half-bad to Eve, but they needed to start smaller and stick closer to the situation at hand.

“We can save those for when shit really hits the fan. For now, we should monitor Carolyn, make sure she isn’t hiding something up her sleeve and we aren’t caught unaware. So, you and I will keep our own tabs on her. We’ll start compiling information on her, find out who she really is and who she really works for, what her motives are. But we’ll have to be careful not to alert her that someone is digging around since she has her own team covering her virtual tracks,” Eve continued excitedly, “Oh, if she meets either of us in private, we will inform the other on everything that was discussed. In order for this to work and for us to trust each other, we can’t leave out any details about our one-on-one meetings with Carolyn. No secrets, okay?”

Eve couldn’t tell if Oksana was actually ruminating Eve’s deal or was simply obliging her with the pretense of listening as she lazily leaned against her palms, drawing toward the center of the table, closer to Eve. Her eyes gleamed in the pale light of morning, seemingly glazed over when Eve spoke to her.

Oksana drew back into the chair and held out her pinky in the space between them. Eve glimpsed down at the long, withdrawn pinky, mouth slightly falling open at the gesture.

“Pinky promise,” Oksana stated as if Eve’s confusion was completely unfounded, “didn’t you Americans invent this?” She wiggled her pinky in the space between them.

Eve chuckled, lacing her pinky with Oksana’s. “Maybe, I don’t know . . . Let me see your other hand.” Eve nodded to the hand that was hidden beneath the table, lifted her own to rest atop the cool surface, in clear view.

Oksana mirrored her, eyes narrowing, waiting for an explanation.

Again, Eve found herself trying to hold back her laughter. “That way I know you’re not crossing your fingers with your other hand.”

Confusion colored Oksana’s features further, wrinkles making themselves apparent between her brows.

“If you cross your fingers with your other hand during a pinky promise, then it negates it,” Eve clarified, amusement clear in her voice.

Oksana’s brow quirked, her lips twitching with mischief. “Eve,” she drawled out, “did you cross your fingers when you promised to give me everything I wanted?”

Eve was taken back to that night when she was certain that Villanelle would never hurt her because she thought she understood the inner-workings of her mind; she thought that Villanelle was incapable of physically hurting Eve because that would tarnish the obsession, the onslaught of feelings Villanelle held for Eve, it would be too destructive for Villanelle’s mental and emotional structure to kill the only thing she loves. Obviously, Eve had been wrong, or at least had miscalculated. She had been so arrogant and pent up, the unpredictability of Villanelle exciting her when she finally graced her front door in a stunning black gown and red on her lips, like blood. And although she would never admit it to Oksana, the fragrant curved blade that Villanelle held against her had stirred something deep in her gut, heating her core.

When Eve had agreed to give Villanelle everything, her mind had gone cloudy with the rush of it all, expectantly waiting for Villanelle to just take her right there and then. However, Villanelle had regrettably stepped back, deliberately tossing the knife in the kitchen sink. Villanelle had plopped herself onto Eve’s couch, stared at her expectantly until Eve joined on the opposite end of the couch, and asked if they could watch a movie. Villanelle forced Eve to choose the film, probably hoping that it would reveal further facets of Eve, Unfortunately for Villanelle, Eve didn’t get around to expanding her film repertoire during her time at MI6. So, they settled for whatever was on television. Eve spent the entire time sneaking glances at Villanelle to observe her reactions to the film, curious to know if they would mirror that of normal viewers or if they would be absurdly opposite. Villanelle stunned her though with a stony gaze at the television, focusing intently but lacking any sort of emotional reaction. Halfway through the film, Villanelle had turned toward Eve, a smirk plastered on her face, as she teased Eve about staring at her, smugly remarking that she could always send Eve a photograph of herself but it would never be as great as the real thing.

Eve remembered how flushed she felt throughout the entire experience, needing to cross her legs to relieve some pressure. She had been careful to keep her distance on the couch, the air too thick already with Villanelle’s perfume, let alone just her presence and Eve’s arousal. Eve’s strategy to try and keep herself still, controlled, had all but dissipated when Villanelle had scooted herself closer and relaxed onto Eve. Villanelle had placed her hand loosely on Eve’s knee, still staring at the television screen, seemingly oblivious to the slight shudder Eve let out in response. Then, before Eve could fully register what she was doing, she faced Villanelle, mere inches dividing them as Eve’s breath grew shallow when fixating on Villanelle’s ruby-stained lips. She had hoped to smear the lipstick off and replace it with her own, bruising both their lips with the forcefulness of Eve’s aggressive kiss that she was sure Villanelle would match with equal ferocity. Eve had let her mind run wild about all the things Villanelle could do to her as she leaned in just a little more . . .

Villanelle had cursed so loudly that it startled Eve more than the honk of the car waiting for them outside.

Bringing herself back to the present, Eve rolled her eyes and scoffed in an attempt to conceal her reverie. “Please, I even held your hand in the car and when we were walking to the Forest of Dean.”

Oksana pouted, her eyes watering. “But we didn’t even have sex after the movie.”

Eve guffawed, wanting nothing more than to wipe that pout off her face. She just wasn’t sure if she wanted to do it with her mouth or her fist.

“Just put your hand on the table,” Eve demanded.

“Okay, okay.” Oksana planted her palm flatly on the table’s surface, just like Eve’s. “You’re bossy when you’re impatient. It’s sexy.” Her voice dropped lower, a huskiness curling around the edges of the compliment.

Despite herself, Eve smiled, a giddiness bubbling within her from Oksana’s compliment. With their eyes locked, their pinkies entangled, warmth enveloped them. They took comfort in their mutual obsession, mutual chaos. No one could judge them for their decisions, for choosing each other, for saving each other. And they couldn’t masquerade behind their own judgment of the other because it would mean admitting their own faults, feelings, a reflection of themselves. Neither of them took well to introspection.

“Pinky swear,” Oksana chirped, voice now woven with enthusiasm and steely resolve.

“Pinky swear,” Eve responded, sealing the deal.

Oksana’s grip on Eve’s pinky tightened, using it as leverage to pull herself into Eve’s space, a smile unveiling itself when Eve’s breath hitched and her eyes went straight to Oksana’s lips. “So, what’s for breakfast?” 

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, this is me coping with the fact that we're going to have to wait over a year to see these two lovebirds grace our screens again when Killing Eve season 4 finally airs. This is my first time writing a Killing Eve fanfic, so please let me know what you think! Constructive criticism is always welcome! Also, right now this is a one shot, but if you guys want more, let me know because I have a few ideas for a longer story with multiple chapters.


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